"Anne-Marie, what makes you so full of vinegar tonight?" my daughter-in-law Tammy asked her 7-year-old daughter as she bounced around in animated conversation.
Overhearing, her 5-year-old sister Maddie piped up, "I didn't have any vinegar today!" I'm not sure if she is even familiar with vinegar, but this is typical of her remarks that keep me entertained.
When I was unpacking on our arrival here, Maddie came into the room carrying a handful of tangled yarn. "Mimi, do you know how to sew?" she asked me. When I told her yarn was for knitting, she asked if I knew how to knit, which I don't. Today it must have still been on her mind, for I heard her say thoughtfully, "I bet my other grandma knows how to knit!"
We were preparing to go out yesterday, and my husband decided to stay home. Anne-Marie found out her Pa Pa wasn't going, so she put up a plea to stay home, too. I knew she was a little homebody, but I asked her why she didn't want to go. "Well," she said, "if we were going to the Lego store, I would want to go. Or if I was going to a friend's house, I would want to go." Then, thinking harder, the thoughtful little miss said, "And if it was church, I would really want to go, or if I didn't know where we were going I would want to go."
"Well, we don't know where we are going," I reasoned, although I knew a couple of places we might go, to which she answered, "Yes, I heard Dad say you were going to Sam's Club." I get it. The unknown factor might still present possibilities in her mind, I guess.
Last night was church, and Anne-Marie could hardly wait. When I came down from upstairs she met me at the door, freshly bathed and shampooed, wearing a longish summer dress with sandals and fairly dancing with excitement. After church, dashing in and out among her friends in the spacious foyer, she was a vision of loveliness, her blonde hair bouncing and the purple dress, longer in the back, floating after her.
No wonder she likes church so much. I had read a sheaf of papers held by a magnetic clip on their refrigerator that Anne-Marie had typed (yes, she types) as part of her homeschooling. One was about kids' church. "First, we have waffles," she wrote, "Chocolate chip or plain." (This was for Sunday mornings.) "Then we have worship. Sometimes we feel angels," she continued. She went on about games they play, the story, and songs they sing.
Other pages were about her baby brother ("His face makes him cute."), or "How to Give a Baby a Bath," the last step being, "Hug and kiss the clean baby."
And that is one of my favorite things about my visit, hugging and kissing the baby!
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Grandparents' Day
Today was beautiful after yesterday's downpour! And not only was the weather beautiful, with clear, sunny skies and perfect temperatures, the whole day was beautiful, in that I spent fun time with my Houston grandchildren.
"Come here, I want to teach you a game," I called to 7-year-old Anne-Marie and Maddie, 5, who had been playing hide-and-seek for some time. They ran to me expectantly. I had them stand facing me while I gave them instructions on playing "Mother, May I."
"Maddie, you may take three baby steps," I said, to which she remembered to say, "Mother, May I?" After her sister had taken a couple of giant steps, it was Maddie's turn again. This time I told her to take two scissor steps, which she eagerly did, crossing her feet as I had taught her. "You forgot to say, 'Mother, May I!" I exclaimed. She slapped her forehead, laughed and went back to the starting line.
This happened over and over as the girls happily stepped off the assigned instructions, only to laugh in surprise and run back after they forgot to say, "Mother, May I." It was fascinating to see the joy they got out of a simple game from yesteryear, but the novel steps I thought up (rabbit hops, chicken steps and spider walks) and the concentration it took to remember to ask permission kept them engaged. They wanted to play again, but their daddy came out with a picnic basket and an invitation to the park that we could not refuse.
"Mimi, do you want to go into the forest with me?" Anne-Marie asked after we had eaten our lunch. She was referring to a walking trail through the woods at the edge of the playground. I agreed, and she led me down the path she had taken before in the cool shadow of overhanging trees. After wending our way through a couple of turns in the trail, we came upon a creek. My granddaughter said the path led along the creek and would come out at the opening we had seen at the other side of the park.
We decided to go back the way we had come, though, because the creek was roaring and had washed away much of the trail beside it. Anne-Marie still had energy to play on the swings and playground equipment, but I took a rest to play with baby Isaac in the shade.
He was really warming up to me, now that we had been here a couple of days. I fed him his breakfast with a spoon today, a departure from his innovative father's method of having him suck baby food through a straw! It was so cute to see him open his little mouth like a fish as he waited expectantly for each bite. Then tonight at supper his mommy gave him mashed potatoes with sweet potatoes, and he ate like there was no tomorrow! Maybe he is ready for more table food now that he has turned seven months!
Howard had declined to go on the walking trail earlier, but Maddie had wanted to go. After I told him about the creek, he wanted to take the wallk. I called for Maddie, who was playing on the slide with some other children. "Pa Pa wants to go walking with you now," I told her.
"No, thanks," the independent little red-head said, "I changed my mind!" and went off to join her "friends," leaving us to laugh at her determined little ways. Their father reigned them in with the promise of snow balls on the way home, a sweet ending to a great day. I'm sure I'll reflect on it often when we have gone back home.
"Come here, I want to teach you a game," I called to 7-year-old Anne-Marie and Maddie, 5, who had been playing hide-and-seek for some time. They ran to me expectantly. I had them stand facing me while I gave them instructions on playing "Mother, May I."
"Maddie, you may take three baby steps," I said, to which she remembered to say, "Mother, May I?" After her sister had taken a couple of giant steps, it was Maddie's turn again. This time I told her to take two scissor steps, which she eagerly did, crossing her feet as I had taught her. "You forgot to say, 'Mother, May I!" I exclaimed. She slapped her forehead, laughed and went back to the starting line.
This happened over and over as the girls happily stepped off the assigned instructions, only to laugh in surprise and run back after they forgot to say, "Mother, May I." It was fascinating to see the joy they got out of a simple game from yesteryear, but the novel steps I thought up (rabbit hops, chicken steps and spider walks) and the concentration it took to remember to ask permission kept them engaged. They wanted to play again, but their daddy came out with a picnic basket and an invitation to the park that we could not refuse.
"Mimi, do you want to go into the forest with me?" Anne-Marie asked after we had eaten our lunch. She was referring to a walking trail through the woods at the edge of the playground. I agreed, and she led me down the path she had taken before in the cool shadow of overhanging trees. After wending our way through a couple of turns in the trail, we came upon a creek. My granddaughter said the path led along the creek and would come out at the opening we had seen at the other side of the park.
We decided to go back the way we had come, though, because the creek was roaring and had washed away much of the trail beside it. Anne-Marie still had energy to play on the swings and playground equipment, but I took a rest to play with baby Isaac in the shade.
He was really warming up to me, now that we had been here a couple of days. I fed him his breakfast with a spoon today, a departure from his innovative father's method of having him suck baby food through a straw! It was so cute to see him open his little mouth like a fish as he waited expectantly for each bite. Then tonight at supper his mommy gave him mashed potatoes with sweet potatoes, and he ate like there was no tomorrow! Maybe he is ready for more table food now that he has turned seven months!
Howard had declined to go on the walking trail earlier, but Maddie had wanted to go. After I told him about the creek, he wanted to take the wallk. I called for Maddie, who was playing on the slide with some other children. "Pa Pa wants to go walking with you now," I told her.
"No, thanks," the independent little red-head said, "I changed my mind!" and went off to join her "friends," leaving us to laugh at her determined little ways. Their father reigned them in with the promise of snow balls on the way home, a sweet ending to a great day. I'm sure I'll reflect on it often when we have gone back home.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Landmark Decision
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to cross the Brazos River," the voice came over the train's intercom, "An interesting fact is that the early Spanish explorers named it Rios de los Brazos de Dios, meaning 'The River of the Arms of God.'"
We were taking this trip by rail to see family in Texas and had been entertained with sporadic announcements of points of interest along the way. The name origin of the river reminded me of a beautiful area we had visited in North Carolina called Valle Crucis, or Valley of the Cross, so named by early explorers for three rivers that come together, forming a cross.
I love the fact that godly names have been given by our forebears to many towns and landmarks across the country. A little less appealing to me were landmarks pointed out from the train such as the bank robbed by Bonnie and Clyde in Lancaster, Texas, and a bit farther on, the filming site of the movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre at a two-story, columned house visible in the distance
Thankfully, other scenic and informative spots of interest were highlighted. I had so enjoyed seeing the Washita River Valley in Oklahoma, otherwise known as the Canyon, as the picturesque Washita River meandered over shallow, rocky shoals, the view playing tag with us through the trees as glimpsed from the train window.
And, near Oklahoma's Turner Falls, the layer upon layer of rocks and sediment shoved up at sharp angles along the roadside where the highway had been cut through the mountains. "You can see where these mountains have fallen and folded over," our guide said in the geological lesson.
Our son and host Jamie, ever on the lookout for novel eating places, wanted to take us somewhere called "Bubba's Texas Burger Shack," a local Texas landmark. He had heard rave reviews about the hamburgers, and we were curious and eager to try them. As it happened, I had just paid more than I had ever paid before for a haircut at a glistening, glass-walled salon in Houston's Galleria. It had been cloudy all morning, and as we headed toward the cafe, it became a tumultuous, coastal downpour.
We came upon the questionable-looking, rustic eatery, still in the Galleria district, but practically under an overpass. I hadn't brought my umbrella, but grabbing my granddaughter's Sunday School paper to shield my hair, I dashed with the others up a ramp and under the front porch shelter. We squeezed into the tiny place, thought better of it, then opted to eat at the damp picnic tables on the porch, despite the roar of traffic and gusty wind.
All I can say, is the burgers were worth it! Huge, soft, glistening-brown buns (my husband and I could've split one) held hot, thick, juicy beef (Howard got buffalo) topped with mustard, lettuce and slices of onion. They tasted so real! Not like the fast-food hamburgers, just homemade and hearty! The customers also looked pretty hardy, I must say, in their beards, boots and work clothes. And I guess my hairdo was hardy, too, surviving intact a Texas landmark lunch!
We were taking this trip by rail to see family in Texas and had been entertained with sporadic announcements of points of interest along the way. The name origin of the river reminded me of a beautiful area we had visited in North Carolina called Valle Crucis, or Valley of the Cross, so named by early explorers for three rivers that come together, forming a cross.
I love the fact that godly names have been given by our forebears to many towns and landmarks across the country. A little less appealing to me were landmarks pointed out from the train such as the bank robbed by Bonnie and Clyde in Lancaster, Texas, and a bit farther on, the filming site of the movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre at a two-story, columned house visible in the distance
Thankfully, other scenic and informative spots of interest were highlighted. I had so enjoyed seeing the Washita River Valley in Oklahoma, otherwise known as the Canyon, as the picturesque Washita River meandered over shallow, rocky shoals, the view playing tag with us through the trees as glimpsed from the train window.
And, near Oklahoma's Turner Falls, the layer upon layer of rocks and sediment shoved up at sharp angles along the roadside where the highway had been cut through the mountains. "You can see where these mountains have fallen and folded over," our guide said in the geological lesson.
Our son and host Jamie, ever on the lookout for novel eating places, wanted to take us somewhere called "Bubba's Texas Burger Shack," a local Texas landmark. He had heard rave reviews about the hamburgers, and we were curious and eager to try them. As it happened, I had just paid more than I had ever paid before for a haircut at a glistening, glass-walled salon in Houston's Galleria. It had been cloudy all morning, and as we headed toward the cafe, it became a tumultuous, coastal downpour.
We came upon the questionable-looking, rustic eatery, still in the Galleria district, but practically under an overpass. I hadn't brought my umbrella, but grabbing my granddaughter's Sunday School paper to shield my hair, I dashed with the others up a ramp and under the front porch shelter. We squeezed into the tiny place, thought better of it, then opted to eat at the damp picnic tables on the porch, despite the roar of traffic and gusty wind.
All I can say, is the burgers were worth it! Huge, soft, glistening-brown buns (my husband and I could've split one) held hot, thick, juicy beef (Howard got buffalo) topped with mustard, lettuce and slices of onion. They tasted so real! Not like the fast-food hamburgers, just homemade and hearty! The customers also looked pretty hardy, I must say, in their beards, boots and work clothes. And I guess my hairdo was hardy, too, surviving intact a Texas landmark lunch!
Friday, June 6, 2014
Picked Out
I had rarely seen my husband so excited about anything. He was in love! He came out of the music store the other day absolutely starry-eyed about the guitar he had discovered for sale there. He described to me over and over how wonderful it sounded. He mentioned it several times over the next few days, and when he was in a pensive mood I knew he was thinking about it.
Finally Howard announced his intentions: He was going to buy it! Never mind that he already has guitars and several other musical instruments. I heard him calling the store and making arrangements (they took trade-ins). "I'll be right down," he said to someone on the phone at the store 40 minutes away. Turns out the man he needed to talk to was out until the next day, so we would go then.
I was surprised to see the pile of instruments my determined husband loaded into the car for evaluation. At first, we couldn't locate the store, since he'd only been there once (didn't think about using the GPS), but a helpful driver directed us to the right street and I was assigned to keep my eyes peeled for the building. "That's it!" I cried, as we almost went past it.
The friendly clerk was very attentive and checked out a guitar Howard had brought to have adjusted. After he pronounced it in good shape and gave helpful information about it, my eager husband told him we were here for the guitar he had seen the other day and described it.
"Oh, you mean the used Martin back there?" the man said, then he dropped the bombshell. "That guitar was sold yesterday at the end of the day!" My husband's face fell. I could feel his disappointment and unbelief. The attendant was very kind and sympathetic, suggesting another fine instrument that had been Howard's second choice the other day. But nothing would suffice, so leaving his name and number in case another one like the first one came in, Howard led me out of the music store.
I couldn't help but think of the parables describing the kingdom of heaven that Jesus gave in the Bible. Matthew 13:44 says, "Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field."
And in verses 45-46, Jesus says, "Again the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it."
Nothing in life is as important as gaining the kingdom of heaven. My preacher husband has been preparing diligently for days a message that he will deliver at a service tonight in a Kansas town. Garnering souls for the kingdom. That is his real first love.
Finally Howard announced his intentions: He was going to buy it! Never mind that he already has guitars and several other musical instruments. I heard him calling the store and making arrangements (they took trade-ins). "I'll be right down," he said to someone on the phone at the store 40 minutes away. Turns out the man he needed to talk to was out until the next day, so we would go then.
I was surprised to see the pile of instruments my determined husband loaded into the car for evaluation. At first, we couldn't locate the store, since he'd only been there once (didn't think about using the GPS), but a helpful driver directed us to the right street and I was assigned to keep my eyes peeled for the building. "That's it!" I cried, as we almost went past it.
The friendly clerk was very attentive and checked out a guitar Howard had brought to have adjusted. After he pronounced it in good shape and gave helpful information about it, my eager husband told him we were here for the guitar he had seen the other day and described it.
"Oh, you mean the used Martin back there?" the man said, then he dropped the bombshell. "That guitar was sold yesterday at the end of the day!" My husband's face fell. I could feel his disappointment and unbelief. The attendant was very kind and sympathetic, suggesting another fine instrument that had been Howard's second choice the other day. But nothing would suffice, so leaving his name and number in case another one like the first one came in, Howard led me out of the music store.
I couldn't help but think of the parables describing the kingdom of heaven that Jesus gave in the Bible. Matthew 13:44 says, "Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field."
And in verses 45-46, Jesus says, "Again the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it."
Nothing in life is as important as gaining the kingdom of heaven. My preacher husband has been preparing diligently for days a message that he will deliver at a service tonight in a Kansas town. Garnering souls for the kingdom. That is his real first love.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Not So Small Talk
"Give me those two dimes," the man said, looking at Howard's outstretched palm. He was returning a shopping cart and my husband was searching for a quarter for a deposit on one for us. Howard was looking for enough pennies for the balance to give the man for the cart when he asked teasingly, "Would you take a guitar pick?"
"No, I've got lots of guitar picks," the friendly stranger laughed, "even a pick for my 5-string banjo!" At the word, banjo, Howard perked up and said incredulously, "You have a 5-string banjo? I've always wanted to learn how to play one!"
From there he learned the man's name, where he was from, and that he was on city council in his town for 27 years, that he played instruments in church, what church he attended, and that he had known someone we used to know who lived there! Small world! But then my people-person husband has a way of drawing someone out.
Take yesterday. He went into the store for water and stayed a good while. "I was talking to the bag boys," he explained. "I told them, 'You should really treasure your time working here, because someday you'll look back on it as a great opportunity.'" He said he told them he worked in his dad's store as a teenager, and that it was a good place to get experience and get to know the customers.
"Yes," the boys exclaimed. "We always know what this old man is going to buy when he comes in: a ham sandwich and a bag of chips. Every time!" They told of other predictable customers as they sat mesmerized by the king of talk on a slow evening.
Today Howard came in full of stories he heard while dropping off our truck at the shop. "I don't know why people tell me everything," he mused, "I guess I just look like someone easy to talk to." Duh! But this time he was able to be compassionate to a man who with his wife was raising a baby granddaughter. "Her mother is just in and out," the distressed man had shared.
Well, I know why people are drawn to him and why he is drawn to people. It is the Holy Spirit in him, and his pastor's heart. God has given Howard the ability to relate to and communicate easily and naturally with people, even strangers.
Jesus was like that. He could immediately find common ground with people. He talked of living water with the woman at the well, after asking her for a drink. He told the great fisherman, Peter, that He would make him a fisher of men. He took little children on his lap and said of such is the kingdom of heaven. He gently suggested to Martha to get out of the kitchen. And he fed the people and told them of Living Bread.
The next time my husband goes into the store for a loaf of bread and stays a long time, I won't say anything. He could be telling them of the Living Bread!
"No, I've got lots of guitar picks," the friendly stranger laughed, "even a pick for my 5-string banjo!" At the word, banjo, Howard perked up and said incredulously, "You have a 5-string banjo? I've always wanted to learn how to play one!"
From there he learned the man's name, where he was from, and that he was on city council in his town for 27 years, that he played instruments in church, what church he attended, and that he had known someone we used to know who lived there! Small world! But then my people-person husband has a way of drawing someone out.
Take yesterday. He went into the store for water and stayed a good while. "I was talking to the bag boys," he explained. "I told them, 'You should really treasure your time working here, because someday you'll look back on it as a great opportunity.'" He said he told them he worked in his dad's store as a teenager, and that it was a good place to get experience and get to know the customers.
"Yes," the boys exclaimed. "We always know what this old man is going to buy when he comes in: a ham sandwich and a bag of chips. Every time!" They told of other predictable customers as they sat mesmerized by the king of talk on a slow evening.
Today Howard came in full of stories he heard while dropping off our truck at the shop. "I don't know why people tell me everything," he mused, "I guess I just look like someone easy to talk to." Duh! But this time he was able to be compassionate to a man who with his wife was raising a baby granddaughter. "Her mother is just in and out," the distressed man had shared.
Well, I know why people are drawn to him and why he is drawn to people. It is the Holy Spirit in him, and his pastor's heart. God has given Howard the ability to relate to and communicate easily and naturally with people, even strangers.
Jesus was like that. He could immediately find common ground with people. He talked of living water with the woman at the well, after asking her for a drink. He told the great fisherman, Peter, that He would make him a fisher of men. He took little children on his lap and said of such is the kingdom of heaven. He gently suggested to Martha to get out of the kitchen. And he fed the people and told them of Living Bread.
The next time my husband goes into the store for a loaf of bread and stays a long time, I won't say anything. He could be telling them of the Living Bread!
Monday, June 2, 2014
Game of Life
"Do you want to play Scrabble?" our son Greg asked last night. Of course! We hadn't done that in ages. I dragged out our wonderful, giant Scrabble set that was stored in it's huge box under the bed. It sits on an elevated turn-table making it necessary for me to get a taller chair (am I shrinking?) to comfortably view the large tiles in their grid.
The game went fast at first. My husband started off with a bang due to a fortunate selection of a few letters of high numerical value that just happened to make words, however tiny, on spaces that doubled or tripled their impact. I couldn't believe it when I challenged his word and the dictionary revealed it to be the word for a letter in the Hebrew alphabet!
Then later, when he was still on a roll, he wrote the word, "fag," for multiple points. "That's not a word!" I exclaimed, but he insisted it meant tired from working, "You mean fatigue!" I protested. This time I looked it up and had to laugh at what I read: To make tired by hard work!
Hey, I was supposed to be the Scrabble champ! All our scores began to rise, even though I was lagging embarrassingly behind. (Of course, it was because of bad letters!) And it seemed every time I did have a zinger ready to go, someone got in my space! I also didn't approve of my opponents' practice of looking up words before they played them, but it was all I could do to keep from doing it myself a few times!
As the hour grew late, we wanted to quit, but the lure of the board kept us transfixed. Finally we all ended up with one unplayable letter and called it quits. I kidded Howard that he was like the runner or race horse that didn't pace himself, sprinting ahead early and then not having the stamina to win. And I was pleased that slow and steady worked for me, coming up from behind and having the high score at the end of the game.
Life is a lot like a game of Scrabble. We have to work with what we have been given, just as we make words of letters we have randomly chosen. We are born into different circumstances to our own particular parents, and there is no one else exactly like us. Even though we have no control over our inherited genetics, or possibly even our environment, it is still up to us to take from these components and make something of them. Our imagination, ingenuity, education or skill, applied to our situation can make a life uniquely ours, and a very satisfying one, at that.
The Bible says that he formed us and knew us in our mother's womb, and knew our days before any of them came to be, Psalm 139:16. Some say He even planned where we would live, according to Acts 17:26, which says, "And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation."
Since God put so much planning into our lives and went to all the trouble to make us so intricately and marvelously unique, who are we to complain about God's workmanship or our lot in life? After all, we can do what no one else can do--be our self! And we can finish strong!
The game went fast at first. My husband started off with a bang due to a fortunate selection of a few letters of high numerical value that just happened to make words, however tiny, on spaces that doubled or tripled their impact. I couldn't believe it when I challenged his word and the dictionary revealed it to be the word for a letter in the Hebrew alphabet!
Then later, when he was still on a roll, he wrote the word, "fag," for multiple points. "That's not a word!" I exclaimed, but he insisted it meant tired from working, "You mean fatigue!" I protested. This time I looked it up and had to laugh at what I read: To make tired by hard work!
Hey, I was supposed to be the Scrabble champ! All our scores began to rise, even though I was lagging embarrassingly behind. (Of course, it was because of bad letters!) And it seemed every time I did have a zinger ready to go, someone got in my space! I also didn't approve of my opponents' practice of looking up words before they played them, but it was all I could do to keep from doing it myself a few times!
As the hour grew late, we wanted to quit, but the lure of the board kept us transfixed. Finally we all ended up with one unplayable letter and called it quits. I kidded Howard that he was like the runner or race horse that didn't pace himself, sprinting ahead early and then not having the stamina to win. And I was pleased that slow and steady worked for me, coming up from behind and having the high score at the end of the game.
Life is a lot like a game of Scrabble. We have to work with what we have been given, just as we make words of letters we have randomly chosen. We are born into different circumstances to our own particular parents, and there is no one else exactly like us. Even though we have no control over our inherited genetics, or possibly even our environment, it is still up to us to take from these components and make something of them. Our imagination, ingenuity, education or skill, applied to our situation can make a life uniquely ours, and a very satisfying one, at that.
The Bible says that he formed us and knew us in our mother's womb, and knew our days before any of them came to be, Psalm 139:16. Some say He even planned where we would live, according to Acts 17:26, which says, "And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation."
Since God put so much planning into our lives and went to all the trouble to make us so intricately and marvelously unique, who are we to complain about God's workmanship or our lot in life? After all, we can do what no one else can do--be our self! And we can finish strong!
Sunday, June 1, 2014
A Day in the Life
We weren't trying to be difficult patrons, but it did seem as if we were making a lot of requests. We were eating at a restaurant honoring my Mother's Day gift card my daughter had sent me, and the waiter was taking our drink order. As usual, this presented a challenge for me, since I avoid caffeine. "Do you have any kind of lemonade?" I asked. The young man answered that they had a strawberry lemonade.
After one sip, I questioned, "Does this have artificial sweetener?" detecting the unmistakable bitterness I hate, to which he said, "I don't know, but I'll find out," returning shortly and confirming that it did. I may not have much sense of taste, but I can taste sweet, sour, salty and bitter.
"Could you make it with sugar?" I asked, and the patient waiter said he would find out, coming back and apologizing that the drink mix was pre-made and could not be changed. I settled for root beer, which he said contained no caffeine.
We decided on steak, and gave our order. After it was turned in, it was Howard's turn to be picky. When the waiter passed by again, my husband stopped him. "I was noticing you had something called 'Whiskey Steak'. I had that in New Orleans once, and it was delicious. Could you do that to my steak?" The waiter said he would find out.
"No," he said upon returning, "They said it would have to be marinated." Then he said something complicated about the marinated vegetables topping the steak being seared first, followed by the the steak picking up the flavor after being seared on the same grill. Howard ate his steak plain, but not before I teased him about "hitting the sauce," referring to the time he raved about the whiskey sauce on some bread pudding we'd ordered. He assured me the alcohol was burned off in the cooking, though.
My particular husband had chosen a house salad, but was wrestling with the idea that it contained bacon (he loves bacon, but apparently not in salad). The waiter soothed his worries by offering to serve it on the side. Our meal was delicious, and we even had a bite of dessert, after which our solicitous waiter that we had kept running was probably glad to see us go.
Not wanting to go along to a guitar shop, I was dropped off at my favorite store to browse for a half hour before we headed home. A couple of things caught my eye, and when I slid my debit card into the machine to pay for them, it didn't pick up all the numbers I punched in, so I pushed "Cancel." "You will have to run it through as "Credit" now," the cashier informed me, "So I need to see a picture ID."
No problem, I thought, as I fished for my driver's license. I couldn't come up with it! I must have misplaced after needing it for the library the other day! Finally the manager was called, and she asked, "Is this card in your husband's name?" It was. "He will have to sign it," she stated. The cashier told her I had wanted to use it as debit. "Oh, then, you just push "Clear," she said simply, and my purchase was completed!
Much ado about nothing! Our activities today reminded me of our requests to God in prayer. Our needs may be seem complicated to us, but He understands completely and can sort things out. And when our life is muddled by mistakes and failures, He hits the "Clear" button, for he has deposited in our account everything we need through the blood of Jesus Christ!
After one sip, I questioned, "Does this have artificial sweetener?" detecting the unmistakable bitterness I hate, to which he said, "I don't know, but I'll find out," returning shortly and confirming that it did. I may not have much sense of taste, but I can taste sweet, sour, salty and bitter.
"Could you make it with sugar?" I asked, and the patient waiter said he would find out, coming back and apologizing that the drink mix was pre-made and could not be changed. I settled for root beer, which he said contained no caffeine.
We decided on steak, and gave our order. After it was turned in, it was Howard's turn to be picky. When the waiter passed by again, my husband stopped him. "I was noticing you had something called 'Whiskey Steak'. I had that in New Orleans once, and it was delicious. Could you do that to my steak?" The waiter said he would find out.
"No," he said upon returning, "They said it would have to be marinated." Then he said something complicated about the marinated vegetables topping the steak being seared first, followed by the the steak picking up the flavor after being seared on the same grill. Howard ate his steak plain, but not before I teased him about "hitting the sauce," referring to the time he raved about the whiskey sauce on some bread pudding we'd ordered. He assured me the alcohol was burned off in the cooking, though.
My particular husband had chosen a house salad, but was wrestling with the idea that it contained bacon (he loves bacon, but apparently not in salad). The waiter soothed his worries by offering to serve it on the side. Our meal was delicious, and we even had a bite of dessert, after which our solicitous waiter that we had kept running was probably glad to see us go.
Not wanting to go along to a guitar shop, I was dropped off at my favorite store to browse for a half hour before we headed home. A couple of things caught my eye, and when I slid my debit card into the machine to pay for them, it didn't pick up all the numbers I punched in, so I pushed "Cancel." "You will have to run it through as "Credit" now," the cashier informed me, "So I need to see a picture ID."
No problem, I thought, as I fished for my driver's license. I couldn't come up with it! I must have misplaced after needing it for the library the other day! Finally the manager was called, and she asked, "Is this card in your husband's name?" It was. "He will have to sign it," she stated. The cashier told her I had wanted to use it as debit. "Oh, then, you just push "Clear," she said simply, and my purchase was completed!
Much ado about nothing! Our activities today reminded me of our requests to God in prayer. Our needs may be seem complicated to us, but He understands completely and can sort things out. And when our life is muddled by mistakes and failures, He hits the "Clear" button, for he has deposited in our account everything we need through the blood of Jesus Christ!
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